


And I gotta get one little taste

by CelestineAzure87



Series: valentine's day [1]
Category: Cycling RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Girlfriends/No Wives, Baking, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Engagement, Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Romantic Comedy, Tom and Wout Friendship Fic, Valentine's Day Fluff, mathieu sucking at housework in general seems to be a canon, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29378790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestineAzure87/pseuds/CelestineAzure87
Summary: Alternative title: Tom pops the question, ver.1Tom suddenly takes up baking. Wout tries his best to guide him for the best results.Alternative title's Alternative title: a perfectionist who is living in his head trying to learn how to please another perfectionist with a bit of help from his buddy and his boyfriend's bad housework skills
Relationships: Tom Dumoulin/Primož Roglič, Wout van Aert/Mathieu van der Poel
Series: valentine's day [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2159142
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	And I gotta get one little taste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nearina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nearina/gifts).



> This is a as-fluffy-as-it-goes Valentine's day fic! The only angst in here is my own, because I suck at cooking in general. Also, this ended up being a bit of Tom & Wout friendship fic. Life is full of surprises, isn't it.
> 
> I would like to gift this fic to Nearina as a token of gratitude for your lovely comments on my previous work, you truly made my days, I hope you don't mind this exactly-zero-angsty drabble with Wout & Mathieu as almost-main-couple.
> 
> Absolutely nothing is based on the real life. You are just invited to the world of my weird imagination and fully entitled to decline. 
> 
> Title is from Sugar by Maroon 5 because I'm just that uncool

**November 30th**  
  
Nobody is surprised to learn Tom is rubbish at baking, least of all his partner.

"Of course, Tom. You hate waiting. And you don't like using the scale. And you spill things everywhere." Primož, who is masterful at everything in the kitchen, likes to tease him for that. He particularly likes to do it while feeding him some intricate desserts he pulls out from the oven, today's being raspberry soufflés. "I don't understand. You are good at cooking. "

"There are so many dishes I can do without using measuring cups for anything, you know. " Tom argues back playfully, nibbling a mint chocolate twig off his Primož's hand. "And even if something goes wrong, there are so many things I can do to salvage it, if it's on the stovetop or a grill. but in the oven, everything mixed already? All you can do is just pray and keep looking into it like a moron. "

"Tom, If you weight things right, and heat the oven right, things don't go that wrong, yeah?"

"Look, we are living in fucking 21st century. We are all busy, who got time for weighting things precisely? And I want another spoonful of this gorgeous stuff."

"The soufflés part or raspberry part?"

"Both, if you please."

Primož laughs, and scoops one big spoonful for his partner, neatly scraping off the corner of the dish. "Here, best of both worlds, my greedy Tom. This is everything left for today,"

"I'm greedy because you let me. "Tom kisses Primož's fingers, and that's normally the sigh of _Let's Clean Up and Start A Little More Adult Oriented Activity_.  
  
 **December 31st**  
  
Some are surprised to learn Tom is taking up baking as his new hobby.  
  
"I'm baking you a cake for this Valentine's day." Tom declares proudly, to slightly stunned-looking Primož on the new years eve.   
  
"A cake?"   
  
"Why not? You like cakes. I want to bake a buttercream cake for you for Valentine's day."  
  
"A _Buttercream Cake_??" Frown deepens.   
  
"You don't like buttercream cake? I thought you did."  
  
"I like it. But Tom, buttercream cake is difficult, yeah? Not easy for a beginner. How about a bread? Or cookies? I like chocolate cookies."  
  
"No. Buttercream cake, and this is final." Tom is now grinning. "Make a note on the calendar. I'm taking an online class for it."  
  
" _An Online Class_?? Tom, you can't even finish cooking Netflix documentaries. "   
  
"Well, Netflix documentary doesn't usually talk to me. Come on, I will do well. And try to have a little more faith in your boyfriend."  
  
 **January 17th**  
  
Tom is losing faith in himself rapidly, and so does his "online tutor".  
  
"Tom, I don't know how to say it in nicer way, but you are just shit at this." Wout van Aert, a self-proclaimed resident baking guru of Jumbo Visma, sighs in his own kitchen. He could see Tom frowning over the tablet screen. "Not as bad as Mathieu, but well, nobody on this planet is as bad as him, so that bar is like into the underground. Either you just don't listen to me properly, or scale in Monaco is totally different from here. "  
  
"Wait, how bad is Mathieu?"  
  
"I was threatened we might not be able to renew the house insurance if he tries to cook one more time. So yeah, not good. "  
  
Tom groans.   
  
"But, the good thing is, the sponge cake is coming out pretty good, you are clearly getting better at that part. Why don't you try to get the buttercream from nearby bakeries or something? You don't have to make everything from scratch, do you? The most important part..."  
  
Tom shuts off his tablet quickly as he hears footsteps and rustling of paper bags from the doorway earlier than expected.  
  
 **February 12th**  
  
"Tom, really, I think it looks decent. You don't have to re-do it. Really, TOM."

"Decent isn't good enough. It just doesn't look symmetrical. "

"I really don't think he would think _Decent Isn't Good Enough_. Especially this time."  
  
"You don't live with him. You won't understand." Tom is about to attack the thick buttercream off the cake, angling his spatula. "He will notice. He won't say anything, but he will. I need this to be perfect. He deserves it, he's putting up with me so much."  
  
"Tom. Look. "  
  
Tom puts down the spatula and looks back the tablet on the kitchen counter, and crosses arms.  
  
"First thing first, I don't think Rogla is that much of an arse to think _Oh This Is Not Symmetrical Enough_ or whatever you are saying in your head. That's you, not him. He will just think, _Oh Tom Baked A Cake For Me, This Is Nice_. Or just, _CAKE_. Trust me, I've been his teammate longer than you. He'd be glad if you pile gel packets on the plate for him and serve it, if it's you who've done it. "  
  
Tom looks down, smile creeping up on his face. "I guess you are right."  
  
"Mathieu over there just washed a fucking toilet paper roll with our laundry. Now my TT kit and two of favourite shirts are covered in white bits, I don't think I can save them all. And yeah, I'm very, very annoyed with him now. But you know what? In 10 years of time, I will just remember him trying to do a laundry when I got stuck in Spain a few days longer than I planned, so that I can wear my favourite shirt when I get home. And your cake is nowhere near as bad as laundries with tons of white bits stuck to it. "  
  
"Wout, that's a nice anecdote and my heart is very warm for you two, but how the fuck did Mathieu wash a toilet roll?"  
  
"I heard my name! It was just there! It was an accident!" A familiar voice rings out from the frame.   
  
"How does the toilet paper roll _just end up there_?"  
  
Mathieu walks into the frame, with laundry basket in his arms. "Oh, here goes Tom, Mr. Domestic God Who Can't Bake! Like you never put away something when you are cleaning up and forget it there!"  
  
"Who the fuck put a toilet roll inside the washing machine?"  
  
"My boyfriend, apparently." Wout grins, as Mathieu bends over and drop a kiss on the top of his boyfriend's head. "So, Tom, just don't drive yourself out of your mind, all right? It will go well, Rogla will love it. And the most important bit isn't even the cake, it's what's inside in it. And I mean this time, literary."  
  
Tom nervously chuckles. "True. OK, I will try not to freak out. "  
  
"Just don't forget to take out the butter out of the fridge in time. And preheat setting is 7, not 2. Good luck - if anything, at least you two will have nicer shirts for the valentine's day than me. "  
  
"I heard you!"  
  
 **February 13th**  
  
"Are you sure you don't want any help?" Primož calls out from the living room sofa.  
  
"For the last time, NO!" Tom shouts back from the kitchen. "Just sit back and relax! Don't even think about coming in here! Watch a cooking documentary or something!"  
  
Primoz rolls his eyes a little. Whoever the instructor of the online class Tom took, they didn't teach him how to share a kitchen with others. But judging from the low hum of Tom, and sweet smell of vanilla and almond whiffing out of their kitchen, the end result seems to be very promising.   
  
**February 14th**  
  
Two dishes on the table, main course with salmon and dill butter, are now both empty. Primož gets up, grabbing two dishes. "Tom, that was beautifully cooked. I really enjoyed it, thank you." He bends down and press his lips to Tom's cheek.   
  
"I'm glad you liked it. But I hope you still have some space in your stomach?"  
  
"Your cake."  
  
"Yes, the cake. Put those down on the sink, and come sit down. The cake is now served. Close you eyes, don't open it until I say so!"  
  
 _Tom is so excited,_ Primož thinks, smiling. _He is so cute when he is excited._ He sits down, closes his eyes as instructed.   
  
After hearing a click of dish on front of him, Primož feels Tom's hands gently wraps his shoulders. "Now you can open your eyes."  
  
Primož gasps. It indeed is a nice cake - cream white frosting with a bit of sponge peeking out from the underneath, with blueberry and lemon peels generously sprinkled on the top.   
  
"Well? What do you think?"  
  
"Tom, this is beautiful! You made it by yourself?"  
  
"Yeah. I did buy the buttercream, couldn't mix it well enough myself. And I practiced...a lot."   
  
"Tom, who cares about buttercream, it looks just beautiful. Can we eat it now?"  
  
Tom flinched, looks a little nervous. "Yeah. Let's eat. But first, we need to cut it in half. Because there's two of us here, you see."  
  
"Ah, yes, of course. " _Now Tom is acting strange._ "Can you do it, or?"  
  
"I will keep it still with fork, and you cut it. "  
  
Primož nods, and picks up a knife from the table. "In the middle? Half?"  
  
"In the middle. Half." _Why is he turning paler? Was the salmon bad? But I feel fine._  
  
Knife glides nicely while Tom supports the cake with a fork, revealing layers of pale yellow sponge, white buttercream, and blueberries. Primož lets out a small yet gleeful scream. "This looks so nice, Tom! So many blueberries inside, I love blueberries. And it makes a triangle inside, I see. Very nice design."  
  
Primož feels Tom's hands on his shoulder again. "Primož, look up. Where the triangle is pointing at?"  
  
Primož shoots up his glance onto the small pendant lights, directly hanging above the dining table and the cake. It's a modern design in black steel and discreet, but today, something red is peeking out on its stem.   
  
"Tom...?"  
  
"Now go and get it. I will hold you."  
  
Tom helps Primož onto the chair. Primož reaches out to the lamp, and retrieves the ribbon. The crimson red velvet ribbon crinkles inside of his hands as he unties it.  
  
"Tom? Tom, is this...?"  
  
Primož looks down Tom on the ground, and sees him smiling and nodding, with tears pooling up in his eyes. Primož slides down from the chair, almost diving into Tom's trembling arms, gripping the velvet ribbon with two platinum metal rings attached to it in hand. Feeling like his lungs completely lost the air, he kept mumbling his partner's name as he clutches to Tom's shoulders, feeling his breath and kisses on his face. _Oh Tom, oh Tom, Tom. Tom._  
  
After storms of kisses and I love yous, Tom takes the ribbon out of Primož's hand, and unties one slightly smaller ring out of it. "You are traditional type when it comes to those thing, so, I will do it in that way." He kneels in front of Primož, then takes his left hand into his hands, smiling and tears flowing down on his cheeks.  
  
"Will you marry me?"  
  
Reply was almost breathless and soundless, but they both knew the answer. With quivering fingers, Tom takes Primož's left hand, and puts the ring to his delicate finger. To Tom's surprise, Primož also kneels down, now facing Tom. He takes the ribbon away from his partner's crutch, unfasten the ribbon off another ring, drape the ribbon around his neck, and takes Tom's left hand.  
  
"Will you marry me, Tom?"  
  
Toms eyes go wider, as he feels the pleasant sensation of cool metal sliding on his finger. He wraps his hands around his now fiancé's hands, gripping it tighter and whispering strong _yes,_ again and again.  
  
 **February 15th**  
Wout wakes up to the vibration of the phone. He quickly opens WhatsApp, and lets out a happy scream, almost punching the air. Mathieu rolls around, snatching his boyfriend's phone off his hands.  
  
In the first picture, Tom was facing the camera, his left hand placed on the back of Primož's head. Primož was in his arm, turning his face towards the camera, smiling shyly and grabbing Tom's shirt on his left hand. Both men's left hand is now adorned with a simple ring. There is a handwritten message on the top of it in silver, _He said yes!.  
  
_ On the second one had deep blue filter. Tom is feeding the cake to Primož with a small fork. Both are grinning, Primož happily nibbling the cake and Tom beaming with happiness and pride.   
  
"Oh fuck, I'm so so happy for Tom. "Wout sighs contently.   
"Yeah. they look happy and all, but why are you so invested in their propose, Wout? It's not like Rogla would say no?"  
"He got the buttercream layering perfect this time."

**Author's Note:**

> Yes I did a laundry with a toilet roll in it once  
> What did you expect from a leo with chaotic brain  
> (I think it fell off from the shelf)


End file.
